


An Epilogue

by LondonGypsy



Series: Greek Summer Nights [7]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Love, Sexy Times, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also very fluffy, and some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little fluff piece to make up for the angst. </p>
<p>This is Benedict and Isis at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> A huge Thank You goes (as always) to my beloved SuperWhoLockGypsy.  
> Also a big big Thank You to Barawen and calliope79 for inspiration, cheerleading and generally making me want to continue this.  
> Barawen also for BritPicking this baby.  
> Thank you, Ladies, wouldnt have written this without you.

I wake slowly with the knowledge I don’t have to get up straight away. Smiling contently I stretch and pull the duvet tighter over myself, relishing a few more minutes in bed.

I can hear rain splatter against the windows which makes me curl up further into the warmth of my covers. Besides the pitter patter against the glass the flat is quiet. Even without checking I know I am alone which makes me want to get up even less.

But a few minutes later my alarm goes off and I switch it off, swinging my legs out of bed.

I shuffle into the bathroom to take a long hot shower to loosen the cricks in my neck.

15 minutes later I sit in the kitchen, wrapped up in a thick, warm robe, sipping my coffee and flip through the paper.

I should start to work soon but right now I don't really feel like it. Everything is quiet, the rain outside slowly turns into wet snow but inside it's warm and cozy, a perfect day to just do nothing.

But my open laptop is glaring at me and eventually I sigh and pull it over.

 *

The morning goes by quickly and before I realize it, I hear keys in the door.

Instantly my stomach is filled with butterflies and my heart starts beating faster.

“Anybody home?”

A stupid grin spreads over my face as I hear his voice and as he appears in the doorway, it feels like the smile's splitting my face.

“Good day, sir, can I help you?” I ask innocently despite myself, closing my laptop.

He snickers and leans against the door-frame, not in the slightest fazed he is dripping rain and snow onto the floor.

“I'm not quite sure, madam. I thought this was my flat but I must have mistaken the doors.”

He looks around with narrowed eyes before he looks at me again, dropping his voice to a conspiratorially whisper.

“I might stay though... just don’t tell my girlfriend.”

A hot fire blooms in my stomach; I am still not used to that: girlfriend.

He grins, his eyes twinkling mischievously in the grey light of the kitchen.

“Cheeky bastard,” I mutter fondly and he hears it - the grin is getting wider as he slowly walks over to me.

“That was pretty rude, you know...”

“Was it now?”

He has reached me, stopping only an inch away from me and tilts his head, letting his gaze run over me appreciatively.

“If I think about it, you look pretty much like my girlfriend, same tousled hair, same pretty blue eyes. Even the same lips I've been dying to kiss for hours now.”

His words chase shivers down my spine and I'm glad I am sitting as my knees go a bit weak.

“Come here, you,” I murmur and grab the lapels of his coat, pulling him down into a short but intense kiss.

He moans lowly against my mouth and protests softly as I break the kiss, frowning.

“You're wet,” I complain and he laughs.

“Love, it's pissing down outside, of course I am wet.”

“Get those clothes off then,” I say and bite back a grin as his eyes widen surprised.

“Your wish is my command,” he growls and starts stripping off his soaked coat right there in the kitchen.

I watch him shed the damp jacket, kick off the ruined shoes but as his hands start to open his trousers, I stop him.

“Let me help you with that,” I purr and he groans in reply, his hands falling to his side.

I curl my hands around his hips and pull him closer so that my nose bumps into his stomach. I nuzzle him through the damp fabric of the shirt, making him twitch a bit. An idea shoots through my head and I lean lower, taking the button of his trouser into my mouth. It takes a bit but finally I get it open; I do the same with the zip: taking it between my teeth and work it open.

His hands have settled on my head, his cold fingers sliding through my hair.

Letting go of his hips I push down his trousers and pants before I slowly rise to my feet.

I graze my nails over his thighs, delighted at the low grunt he lets out, his head lolling about.

My hands slide under his shirt. His skin is cool but warms quickly under my palms as I push the shirt over his head.

Taking a step back, I drop the shirt carelessly on the floor and just admire him for a moment.

Beautifully naked in his kitchen, not the least bit self-conscious. He is half hard already, his chest and neck flushed with arousal and when I look up into his face, his gaze is burning and greedy.

“I really like coming home to this,” he growls hoarsely and reaches out for me.

His lips find mine instantly, his kiss is hard and a bit possessive and it makes my toes curl in pleasure.

“What are you wearing under this?” he murmurs darkly into my ear as his hand plays with the belt of the old robe I am wearing.

“Why don’t you go and find out,” I whisper back and he promptly pulls on it.

The robe falls open and he whistles quietly, pushing it from my bare shoulders.

“I really hope you don’t open the door like this,” he says, his big hands roaming slowly over my naked body, chasing goosebumps over my skin.

“Only for you,” I reply lowly.

I hum approvingly as he pulls me against his chest, his tongue sliding into my mouth, hot and perfect. His hands slide over my back, making me shudder, before they settle on my arse, squeezing teasingly.

“Bed... now,” he grumbles against my lips.

We bump into walls on our way there, not able to keep our hands or lips from each other on the short way toward the bedroom. He knocks over a few pictures from the drawer in the hallway and I hit my elbow on the bedpost as we tumble into bed, breathless and giggling.

“I've been thinking about kissing you all night,” he mumbles against my neck, his clever fingers playing with my nipples. I moan loudly, my own hands running over the smooth skin of his back before I grab a handful of hair to pull him down to me.

“Then stop talking and kiss me,” I say and he obliges willingly.

For a while there's only his mouth and mine, his lips sliding easily against mine, gentle teeth biting and nibbling until I am out of breath and a bit dizzy.

I gently push his head back and gasp for much needed air.

“Bloody hell,” he pants, resting his head between my breasts, “you'll be my death one day...”

I smile up at him.

“That makes two of us then.”

He's licking over my skin, dropping tiny little kisses over the thin skin on my chest all the while he gently nudges my thighs apart.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you tonight...” he tells me quietly as he settles between them, “every second was filled with your image in my head, I could feel your touch, smell your scent. It was very distracting.”

I arch against him as he slips a finger between my legs, touching me gently. He groans as he feels the wetness.

“God, so eager,” he murmurs, moving his finger a bit faster, with more purpose, making me press into his hand.

“You know what's the worst with those bloody night shoots?” he asks, scraping his teeth over my hipbones, sucking a bruise into the skin.

I groan needy.

“No, tell me...”

“Not being able to phone you to help me with that bloody hard-on I run around on set half the night. Knowing you were sleeping, in my very bed... god, how much I wished I could just dial your number and have you tell me what you would do to me...”

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing harder into his hand, moaning loudly at the thought.

We do that every now and then, when the longing becomes too much, too hard to bear – literally. I've never considered myself one prone for Phone Sex but with him I can't get enough of it. His sexy voice in my ear, dark and rough with desire, purring all the things down the line, he wants to do to me.

“I had to hide in my trailer tonight,” he rumbles, his fingers twirling faster, driving me closer to the edge. “Had to help myself...twice... before I was able to go out again...”

Images flash behind my closed lids: Benedict's hands in his trousers, his head bend back, stroking himself quickly, perhaps moaning my name when he comes.

“Oh God,” I groan, bucking hard into his hand before I can't take it any more.

With shaking hands I push his hand away and grab his head, making him look up at me. His eyes are clouded and every hint of colour is drowned out by his widened pupils.

“I want you in me,” I whisper, pulling him up to kiss him desperately, “now.”

He growls roughly, his hips twitch involuntarily as he slides up my body to kiss me frantically.

“On your knees,” he commands harshly and I shiver with anticipation.

He knows how much it turns me on when he lets go and loses control like that; it's the entire opposite of what he's like in every day life.

I push him back and slowly roll on my stomach, stretching teasingly before I lift my arse, wriggling it seductively.

I hear him curse hoarsely before his hands grip my hips, holding me still. I feel the tip of his cock brush over my skin and I whine.

“Stop teasing and fuck me,” I demand breathlessly.

With one smooth motion he parts me and pushes into me, instantly setting a punishing rhythm.

I bury my face in the pillow, my hands grasp for a hold as he pounds into me, his fingers digging deep into my flesh, holding me in place.

“Fuck yes... been wanting this all night,” he pants.

Incoherent noises tumble from my lips and I yell out as he sinks his teeth in the crook of my neck, biting hard.

“Yes, scream, scream my name so everybody knows who you belong to... you're mine...mine...” he rambles against my skin, doubling his pace.

God, there is nothing hotter than him losing control like this, just taking what he wants – needs - losing himself utterly and completely. An yet, he never forgets about my needs.

Leaning down he changes the angle, one hand gliding over my stomach and between my legs.

“God, so fucking wet for me...” he growls in my ear, his movements slowing down a bit so he can concentrate on his new task.

His fingers find that spot instantly and it takes only a few clever swirls with those fantastic fingers before I come, crying out his name over and over again as he strokes me through it.

I collapse into the pillows, my entire body trembling, blood rushing loud and hot through my veins.

But he's not done with me yet.

Tangling his hand in my hair, he pulls gently, making me arch back and claims my mouth in a messy kiss.

“And now you're going to take it... take me...” he grunts against my lips, starting to pound into me again. This time he doesn’t stop, doesn’t hold back. Every single one of his relentless thrusts has me whimper, seems to hit down to my inner core. I brace myself against the headboard and give myself to him, letting him use me. And he does: driving into me with no remorse, groaning loudly, his hands tight, almost painful in my hair and around my hip.

The only sound in the room are his moans, my quiet whines and the almost obscene slap of flesh against flesh.

It is magnificent. It is hot and filthy and utterly glorious.

I can feel the shudders running through his limbs, know he's close and I strain my inner muscles, clenching hard around him, making him curse vividly.

One last, bone-crushing thrust and he stills abruptly, spilling his release into me with a mind-shattering growl before he collapses on top of me.

His shaking, sweaty body presses me deeper into the mattress, his warmth surrounding me, and as he mouths a sloppy kiss against my shoulder, I know I'll never want him to leave.

“I love you,” I whisper tonelessly into the fabric under my mouth.

I don’t want him to hear it, not yet.

He shifts, only a tiny bit to not slip out, so he can kiss more of my neck, licking lazily over the damp skin.

“You are fantastic, do you know that?” he mumbles sleepily, making me smile.

“So are you, Mr Cumberbatch.”

He chuckles deeply, plants one last kiss on my neck and gently slides off of me, flopping next to me on the bed.

I am too content to move, only turn my head so I can look at him, laying there on his back, is chest still heaving in the afterglow.

The room's filled with the grey, dimmed light from outside and when I peek past Benedict's form I can see fat snowflakes tumble past the window.

Winter is coming quickly, Christmas is just around the corner and I couldn’t be happier. Soon he's going to have a few weeks off and he's already promised to spend those days at home – with me.

I snuggle closer to him, his breathing is slowing down already; he'll be asleep in a few minutes.

He's doing night shoots for the second week in a row now and it's wearing him out. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and the lines around his mouth and on his forehead are deeper than normal.

I let a finger slide over the side of his face, outlining the sharp angles that make his face so remarkable. He has lost a bit of weight due to the hectic schedule which makes his cheekbones stand out even more than usual, giving him something ethereal and angelic.

“Are you hungry?” I ask softly but am only greeted with silence.

I lift my head a little: he's sound asleep.

Smiling I sit up and pull the duvet over him, making sure it covers him entirely; sometimes his long frame doesn’t fit and then he gets cold feet which makes him pretty cranky.

I kiss his closed lids and slip out of bed, collecting my bathrobe on the way in the kitchen and pull it over again.

Cold is creeping into the flat and I wander from room to room, turning up the heaters before I walk back into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

While I wait for the water to boil, I get dressed. The robe was specifically for Benedict when he came home, now it's entirely too cool for it.

I pour my tea and return a bit reluctantly to my work. Benedict will be out for a while and won't miss me. And as much as I want to join him, it's in the middle of the day. I might work from home and can organise the day to my liking but it has to be done at some point. Might as well use the time he's sleeping.

 *

When I look up from my laptop, it is dark outside. It's got late and with a glance at the clock I get up to wake Benedict.

He still has a few hours before he has to be back at work but I'd rather have some time with him before he leaves again.

Sighing I stroll back into the bedroom.

He's flat on his back, one arm over his head, the other rests on his stomach. One foot has escaped my duvet cover and with a smile I pull it back over it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I just watch the calm up and down of his chest, the peaceful expression on his face; he looks incredibly young and even though sleep can't fully erase the signs of too much work, I have to squint to see them now.

I love watching him sleep, everything falls off of him and I imagine I can see the boy underneath the man he is now: young and sweet, vulnerable and gentle.

I never get tired of looking at his face with its strong brows, the straight nose and those sinful lips.

My mind wanders, I ponder over all the things I have found out about him over the past months living with him. All those tiny things I never knew before.

He gets freckles when he's got too much sun, mostly on his forehead and his nose but also on his neck for some reason. Sometimes I start counting them but always lose count.

He tans pretty quickly but loses it just as fast, leaving his skin thin and over-sensitive to touch – which I happily use to my – and his – pleasure.

His eyes do change colour, I could never quite believe it but they do; always depending on what he wears or what the main colour around him is. Most times they are blue, clear like the sky but sometimes they shimmer emerald green which makes a beautiful contrast to his currently black hair. Every now and then, mostly in the evening, when the light is low they appear golden, shining amber and bright.

That adorable lisp he tries to suppress so hard only comes out when he's exhausted or drunk, on very rare occasions when he's horny and _really_ riled up. And it shouldn’t be and I feel terrible about it but it turns me on – extremely – when he whispers my name in the heat of the night and the lisp comes out.

And even after months together he still refuses to tell me how he came to that scar on his lower lip no matter how hard I tease him. But I won't give up and I’m certain one day he'll tell me.

He needs to shave twice a day, otherwise he gets soft, golden stubble by early afternoon. I still try to convince him to grow a beard over the holidays but so far he doesn’t want to. It itches, he says but I think I am going to hide his shaving utensils. I'd love to see the ginger beard with the short dark hair, I'm sure it looks fantastic.

He babbles in his sleep. Not loud, hardly coherent, just word snippets; sometimes lines from a script he's learning, sometimes just senseless stuff but always adorable. He never remembers in the mornings.

I have to leave the flat when he gets a new script or has to audition for a job: he gets frustrated when he can't remember his lines after a few reads. The first time I witnessed it, I laughed, it was too cute: pacing around the sitting room, his hair a total mess because he couldn’t stop raking his hands through it, murmuring curses that were made to make a sailor blush. The death stare he shot me could have burned the flesh off of my bones. I always flee when he gets a new script.

And yet there's still so much to learn about him, still so much to discover about this man I share my life with.

I caress his cheek, carefully outline the exquisite shape of his face, relishing his smooth skin under my fingertip, memorizing every line, every curve, every freckle.

A tiny smile flickers over his sensual lips at my touch but quickly disappears again. My heart clenches at the sight and there's a sudden lump in my throat.

I've almost lost this, lost him – forever.

If I hadn’t come to London back then.

If I hadn’t decided to go to the exact place at the exact time I did.

If...

“Stop brooding, Love,” he says quietly, voice raspy with sleep and eyes hazy when I look up.

“Don’t ponder the 'what-if's', my heart. Come here...”

He lifts the duvet and opens his arms for me.

I crawl under the covers, snuggling against his warm body.

“I can't help it,” I reply, “the idea that I almost lost...”

“Hush,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss in my hair, “we are together now, that is all I need to know. Let's not think about the past, let's live in the present.”

I hum in reply; there's nothing I can say, he is right, as always.

“Sleep, Love...” he grumbles, already halfway back into sleep himself.

“Ben, you need to get up,” I counter weakly but at the same time let myself lull in by his content sleepiness.

He only huffs and wraps himself around me, legs tangling with mine, strong arms around my waist, his hands in my hair.

“No,” he mutters petulantly, his grip tightening, “don't want to.”

I chuckle against his chest.

“But you have to. You need to eat something before work, you're too thin anyway....”

Grinning I poke him gently in the ribs.

“People will talk and say that I don’t feed you properly.”

He huffs a laugh.

“People do little else.”

His aimlessly meandering hands in my hair suddenly change course: his big palms close around my head and pull me close.

Buzzing softly he rubs his nose against mine before he starts kissing my face, tiny butterfly kisses on my closed eyes, my nose, my cheeks.

It tickles and I snicker but at the same time, my heart melts at this sweet gesture, and I shift a little so we're even closer, pressed together from chest to toe.

His lips are still wandering over my face, slow and quiet, and when he brushes them against mine I sigh happily.

I could stay like this forever, hidden in a duvet cocoon with Benedict wrapped around me and not a care in the world.

It is dark and cosy, only the street lights fill the room with a dim light, casting everything in a fuzzy glow.

Benedict's loud sigh startles me a bit.

“You okay?” I ask concerned.

“Yes, sorry. Was just thinking how damn lucky I am. I have everything one could want, a nice flat, the job I love, you in my bed... Sometimes I think this must be a dream, this can't be real, I don’t deserve all of this...”

I growl quietly, wanting to protest and he quickly soothes me, caressing my shoulder.

“I know, my love, I know. Still... feels too good to be true sometimes.”

“Shush, you silly man. You deserve every bloody good thing that can happen to you. You worked so hard for everything you have now. You never gave up, you went through some tough times and now you get your reward, so shut up about not deserving anything...”

He quiets my ramblings with a kiss, his tongue diving deep in my mouth, kissing me with a passion that has my heart flutter and my mind go blank. His low moans fill my ears, his roaming hands sliding over my back and under my shirt.

His thigh pushes between mine, sparking a fire between my legs and making me rub against him.

“God, I can't get enough of you,” he mumbles against my lips, long, clever fingers pushing my shirt up and my bottoms down and off, dancing lightly over newly revealed skin.

“Never enough...I can't stop thinking about you, can't concentrate when you're not around, people already call me names... and yet I don’t care. Everything becomes irrelevant when I see your face, when you smile that sweet smile at me.. and when you kiss me, when I feel your skin under my hands, I know, I don’t need anything else. As long as I have you... God, Isis, does it ever stop? The longing, the wanting you, even when I just left you...”

I shake my head, tears stinging in my eyes, a lump in my throat. Wordlessly I cling to him, kiss him deeply, try to show him what words can't express.

He gently pushes me on my back and lays on top of me. I open my legs and he parts me easily, sliding inside me with a tenderness that makes my heart ache with love.

“I don’t know, Ben, I don’t know,” I whisper as he moves slowly, his head resting on mine, his eyes wide open but unseeing.

He groans softly and presses further, carefully keeping his weight on his arms framing my head.

His motions are slow and deep, almost tidal, coming and going in unhurried yet urgent waves. His fingers curl around my head, holding me tightly. I bury my own shaking hands in his hair, feeling every strand, every curve overly intense against my fingertips.

Time seems to stand still, it's just him and me in a bubble of darkness and warmth. His breath speeds up in time with his steady thrusts, his chest slick against mine, sliding smoothly against my over-sensitive skin.

“I want to make you mine,” he pants, his voice enveloping me like velvet, honey sweet and dark, “want to own you with everything I have...”

“I _am_ yours,” I reply breathlessly, groaning as he drives hard into me.

“And I am yours. Body and soul, it belonged to you from that first night on... and always will as long as I live,” he breathes huskily.

And then there are no more words.

My legs wrap around his waist and I urge him deeper, meeting his every thrust with mine. A heavy shudder surges through him, his grip around me becomes almost painful and with a toneless cry he pushes into me, making me feel him down to the marrow of my bones. Every muscle in his body locks as he comes, choked up noises falling from his lips. His arms tremble heavily and he lowers himself onto me before he rolls us around, pulling me hard against his chest.

Blood is rushing loudly in my ears and first I can't make out the streams of muttered words into my neck but then he lifts his head and looks me straight in the eyes.

They are dark and endless in the low lights but I can read it all in them, the longing that is driving him – us both – insane with its intensity.

“I...I love you,” he whispers helplessly, the words thick with emotions. The look in his face is one of awe and surprise but then he repeats it, more confident, and his entire face lights up in wonder and understanding.

My heart spills over and I crash my mouth against his, sinking into a kiss that is frantic and messy and perfect.

“Oh Ben...”

I cling to him, the words are stuck in my throat; I mouth them against his lips, over and over again. He wraps his arms tighter around me, holding me together as all my emotions overwhelm me, and he makes soft soothing noise.

“God, I am sorry, that's definitely not the response one should give,” I mutter when I finally can speak again but he tsk's me, shaking his head gently.

“You don’t need to say it,” he whispers, wiping tears from my face, cupping my face in his slender hands, “I can see it on your face, read it in your body, hear it in your voice. Even if you never say it, I would still know.”

He kisses me gently, his lips assuring and sweet against mine and I know with absolute clarity, that nothing will ever come between us. I kiss him back, laying all my love into one kiss.

And he notices – as always.

When he pulls back, he smiles, his eyes shimmering brightly in the low light.

“Come on,” he says roughly, “I think I have time for a quick dinner before I have to go.”

Taking my hand he helps me out of bed; my knees are weak and I'm glad for his strong hands, holding me while I pull my clothes back on. He quickly dresses as well and as he already wants to walk into the kitchen, I hold him back.

He stops, a questioning look on his gorgeous face. I lay a hand on his cheek, smiling as he leans into the touch.

“I love you too, Benedict.”

It is as if the sun comes out: his smile spreads slowly and it is breathtaking in its beauty. I have never seen him like this: it seems as if he's glowing from the inside, and I have time to notice the crinkles around his eyes and on his nose before he wraps his arms around me, holding on as if I would vanish if he ever let go.

When he pulls back I am almost certain I can see tears glitter in his eyes but his smile hasn’t lost its power and he leans down, kissing me softly.

“Let's eat,” he says lowly and takes my hand.

He entwines our fingers tightly before he starts off in direction of the kitchen and I follow him silently, a smile lingering on my lips.

Outside the snow starts falling heavier, enveloping London in white peaceful silence.  


End file.
